


Not Those Times

by winninghearts



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winninghearts/pseuds/winninghearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time can be rewritten. Happy ending, at a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Those Times

“You should know this building closed three hours ago. Can I ask what you're doing skulking around the ancient texts?”

He wasn't prepared for what he found when he turned around. Curls pulled back into a bun, arms full of papers and not an ounce of fear on her face of the man appearing in a locked library after hours. He half expected to see her lips to curl up on the sides before opening to say, “Hello, sweetie.” She didn't, though, of course she didn't, but she did give a small quirk of the eyebrow.

“How did you even get in here? Did you hide between the shelves before closing or something?”

She stepped closer toward him, unafraid, to take a peek at the book he was reading. The Doctor slapped it shut, bringing an automatic cry of protest from the back of her throat. ' _So rough with millennium-old tomes_ ,' he imagined the other-her saying. ' _How am I ever going to train you?_ ' She'd wrap a few fingers around his braces, knowing exactly how.

“For heavens sake, _gentle_. That book is almost a thousand years old. You're going to pulverize it.” She removed it from his hands, checking over it like a mother with a scraped-up child.

He hadn't meant to come here. Well, he had meant to come to this specific library, but he had not known that she worked at this university. If he had, then he would have come a hundred years sooner, or later. Definitely not to this moment, with her curls softly falling from the morning's bun and eyes that didn't know him.

She replaced the book back to where it belonged on the shelf. “I can see that you are just so thirsty for knowledge, but I am going to have to ask you to leave and come back when the library is open.” She was intrigued, though, he could read it in her eyes. The Doctor couldn't say he didn't feel the same. Intrigued by what he knew would be better simply left alone.

“What are you doing here so late?” The Doctor felt like he rarely did what he knew he should do anymore.

“I'm head of the Archaeology Department, and I have permission to be here whenever I like.” She pulled a key on a chain from under her blouse, and the Doctor tried to ignore the way the garment softly parted at her breasts as she pulled it out.

“Shouldn't you be calling the police on me for breaking and entering?”

“You don't look dangerous. I'll let you by this time.” She truly smiled this time. “Besides, I may have been stretching the truth a bit when I said I have permission to be here this late. That key may have been swiped.” The Doctor couldn't help but smile while her familiar one hung on her face. She came closer to him, and the hairs on his arm prickled just from the proximity of her. “When I heard you, though, I thought you might be stealing. Anyone who breaks into a library just to read isn't a threat to me. They're a kindred spirit.” She held out a hand, which the Doctor was hesitant to take.

“You seem familiar,” she said. Her eyes were squinted and examining and she reminded him a tiny bit of her mother. Mannerisms picked up from a lifetime together.

“Oh,” the Doctor said. “I look like someone you know?”

“I said that you _seem_ familiar,” she said, letting the hand not currently in his reach up to touch his short, black hair, an invasion of space that somehow came so comfortably to one who thought herself a complete stranger. “Not that you look familiar.”

He wanted to kiss her here, push her back against the musty encyclopedias and fragile collections. Whisper a name into her skin that she wouldn't understand. _River, River_. She wasn't his River, but she was, and he could make up for lost time. Show her the stars and all of the experiences that he had taken upon himself to deny her of.

In other words, he needed to leave this library now before he did something stupid. He didn't want to be rude, though, and as he shook the hand he still held lightly, he felt a warm sadness spreading through him. _Stop it. She was happier this way._ Possibly.

Her eyes connected with his, and the Doctor felt like he could see her whole life within them. Both lives. “I'm Dr. Pond,” she said, a smirk on her voice. “Melody.”

“I'm...no one. And I need to go.” He let go of her hand and turned the opposite way. He immediately took up a quick pace, and without hesitation, Dr. Pond was following him, twisting through the aisles and calling out.

“Where do you think you are _going_?” She didn't sound puzzled or wistful, she sounded annoyed, and River. He wanted to stop, but he had made a promise. He wasn't even sure if it was right, but it was still one he intended to keep. He had broken so many others.

By the time Melody Pond had rounded the biography section, all that was left for her was a strange breeze and an unplaceable sound that did, somehow, seem familiar.


End file.
